


Always Alone

by theangelofmusics_barricade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelofmusics_barricade/pseuds/theangelofmusics_barricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is too late. And now Enjolras will never know. Never.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Alone

_He’ll never know._

He never knew how much he stared at him, in adoration, in appreciation, in belief. He could go through the alphabet with adjectives. He didn’t see him in the corner, hiding behind the bottle that he clung to for security. The passion he had spoken with, the way his eyes had lit up as he argued for a new world. That new world that he believed he would get to see. What happened to that?

_‘You don’t believe in anything’_

He did. He would always believe in him. He was his whole life. It wasn’t love, it was so much more than that. It was complete and utter devotion that could not be explained, only felt. The blond curl of his hair, the tight corners of his mouth that rarely held a smile. In those moments when he did smile, Grantaire’s body would tighten up, every muscle in him closing together around him. His breath caught, as he looked at those passionate blue eyes that were always avoiding his gaze.

_‘Grantaire, put the bottle down!’_

He wasn’t even drunk. He had barely taken a sip. He was terrified. The time had come, the time he feared, the time that he could lose his Apollo. He wanted to reach out after. He wanted to tell him to run away and never come back. Leave with him and be safe. He didn’t have to do this. Martyrdom. The pathetic excuse to die.

_’Will the world remember you when you fall? Could it be, your death means nothing at all?’_

“I will always remember, my Enjolras. You will not be forgotten,” he thought to himself.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and averted his gaze from the body that dangled from the second story window of the Café Musain. He slowly dropped his hand from the dead man’s one, closing it tightly into a fist. He turned, seeing the blood in the street, the last of the barricade being taken down.

He was too late. He had lost his Enjolras, all because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He drowned his fears in alcohol, too much to save him, to save his reason for living, his belief. He walked down the street into the pub, where he would drink to forget. Forget that he had lost all of his friends. Forget that he had passed out drunk and missed being important and valuable to Enjolras for once in his life. Forget that this ever happened. Maybe if he had drunk enough, he would wake up from this terrible nightmare, and find his Apollo waiting for him, like he did in his dreams. 

But no. The next morning he woke with a massive headache that proved he was still in a world of pain, physical and emotional. He stood up in the alley he had clearly passed out, but immediately fell down again. It wasn’t worth it. There was nothing left for him here. Just to pass the time alone.

 

But then again, that’s what he always was. He never had Enjolras. He admired from a far, and never once was able to gain his favor. Enjloras would never know. Never get the chance to know. He was a waste and he decided to finally embrace that. Alone.


End file.
